


1-800-Kissmet

by JustAwful



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Existential Crisis, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phone Calls & Telephones, Rating May Change, References to Depression, Slice of Life, astrologer!ray, frank has executive dysfunction, frank is a packrat and it's part of the problem, frank sad, graphic depictions of black nitrile gloves, guaranteed happy ending lmao, magic shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAwful/pseuds/JustAwful
Summary: “You know, your birthday is a very spiritual time Frank.” Ray said, sounding a little sagely while looking over the top of his reading glasses at him. He often did this when he knew he was right about something. “Don’t you want to know what the cards have to say about the year ahead of you?”“No.” Frank replied. “I think you pretty much covered it all, don’t you?”“You would say that.” Ray shook his head. He was holding his phone up with one of his many astrology apps open to where he had Frank’s natal chart saved. “It’s all here in your chart.”(The psychic hotline meet-cute no one asked for, cliches abound.)
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Ray Toro/Mikey Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1-800-Kissmet

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all are looking for something cozy right now, so may I present to you a soothe in this trying time.
> 
> Will include: one guaranteed happy ending, magic baths, overcoming burnout, flirting on the phone, Feeling Better, Ray being wonderful, family dinner and fluff.
> 
> Thank you to my goblin pal for reading things over and letting me share before I post. U da best.
> 
> Very lightly edited. - Sorry if mistakey.

1.

‘ _Keep me, I’m lucky_ ’ the business card said. There was an illustration of a palmistry hand diagram with snakes coiling in the background along with the printed type. It was taped to a receipt and a little organza pouch that had a few interesting looking tumbled stones in it.

“Thank you?” Frank said, eyes darting up to meet Ray’s.

They had been sitting around in the living room. A paperback copy of _Kingdom of Fear_ abandoned in Frank’s lap, where he was reclining on the oversized brown waxed leather sofa. Ray was across from him in a matching easychair.

“It’s a gift certificate for an hour long psychic reading.” Ray said.

“This is a joke, right?” Frank’s voice was light, a familiar sarcastic tease in his cadence that was reserved for friends only. 

Ray laughed.

“You know, your birthday is a very spiritual time Frank.” Ray said, sounding a little sagely while looking over the top of his reading glasses at him. He often did this when he knew he was right about something. “Don’t you want to know what the cards have to say about the year ahead of you?” 

“No.” Frank replied. God, he hated it when Ray did that. “I think you pretty much covered it all, don’t you?”

“You _would_ say that.” Ray shook his head. He was holding his phone up with one of his many astrology apps open to where he had Frank’s natal chart saved. “It’s all here in your chart.”

“Oh, _fuck_ off…” Frank said. 

Frank palmed the stones from their pouch to examine them. Little shining nodes of what he recognized as garnet, carnelian and a clear-gray smokey quartz. They felt deliciously cool in his cupped hand and clacked together when he gently closed his fingers around them.

Before they lived together, Frank had never pinned Ray to be _into this kind of thing_. To be, you know, spiritual. Frank didn’t particularly believe in the same way, or in the same things, but he was open to ideas different from his own. The unseen, or whatever, was interesting to consider. It was another way for people to make sense out of things... 

But that was it, just another thing to think about that didn’t have much of an application in Frank’s world.

Frank held the clear piece of smokey quartz up to the light. He could see through it. See Ray through it, distorted and bubbled out like in a fish-eye lens. Colored light was coming through the window in their living space, peering through an ornate work of stained glass hung behind pulled back curtains. There were glowing patches of red and green and blue dancing over Ray’s face and T-shirt. 

“C’mon, Frank… It’ll be another one of your _experiences_.” Ray said. 

__Ray wore a lot of hats to supplement his income as a studio musician; Professional astrologer was one of said hats. Perhaps one used less than audio engineer, but still something that he did and did well like anything he held focus on._ _

When Frank moved in, he found that there was much about Ray hiding under the surface when it came to his interests. Frank would use _interests_ lightly. Mostly because when he started hauling in his obscene amount of cardboard boxes filled to the brim with books and gear and clothes and junk, Ray made him pile all of them in the middle of the living room so he could burn a bundle of herbs over them. 

It wasn’t weird. Okay.. _Maybe a little in retrospect._

__It was more so that it was something that Frank had never seen up close. – It made sense and it smelled really, very good. He wasn’t about to tell Ray no to something so seemingly benign, and honestly nice, in his own home._ _

While waving the smoking wand of twined herbs over the box that said _black metal shirts slash cassettes_ , Ray had explained that the items you carry around with you can sometimes hold _bad energy._

__And when Frank moved in he felt full of it. Bad luck, bad vibes, bad energy. It was hinky shit, sure. He felt off in an unexplainable way that he couldn’t deny or fully explain though._ _

__Then after passing the smoldering little cigar of herbs over Frank, his head, his back and his hands, Ray crossed him. A little wave of hands that Frank hadn’t experienced since Catholic school. He felt remarkably lighter after this. Not that he was religious anymore, or ever, but because Ray was doing it. Doing it to him. Blessing him, or cleansing him.. Or knocking whatever it was that was giving him a hard time loose._ _

__What was a blessing though, if not just a bit of focused positive attention? Frank stopped himself from ever dissecting it any further, because really he had missed that kind of thing. It was nice to be cared for, after all._ _

__In the living room the pair had just finished discussing how Frank was moving into his Saturn return that year, as well as what that meant for the other various planetary interactions that were on their way within the next few months._ _

__Ray had passed him his gift as soon as they wrapped up their session. They were celebrating Frank’s birthday that night, two days early with homemade pizza and not homemade beer because Ray had to work on the day of his actual birthday._ _

__“You know I don’t believe in that shit.” Frank said from the couch._ _

Ray laughed again, it was becoming a running joke in their household. Frank had come to him many times before begging for him to explain which planet was specifically victimizing him. _Or was in renegade, or gatorade._ As well as if the girl or dude he went on a date with was truly compatible with him after they didn’t call him back. They usually weren’t.>

__He had gone with Ray to various astrology salons in the area too, where Frank had met many of Ray’s eccentric...Peers. For Frank it was more about the free vegetarian food that was always served, not because he truly believed in any of it._ _

All of it was fun to think about and Frank liked _experiences_. All sometimes-writers did. It made for an interesting story and Frank was a collector of those. 

__“Yeah?” Ray said, crossing his legs on the ottoman in front of his chair. “You’d say that too.. Practical Libra Mercury placement. So logical and diplomatic.”_ _

“See, that’s why I know it’s not real...My chart says that I’m _smart_.” Frank groused, rolling his eyes. 

“You _are_ smart.” Ray said. He looked at Frank earnestly. “You just get in trouble because you trust people too easily. That’s here too–” 

__“I do not.” Frank said, except he definitely did that._ _

__“Frank, look–You’ll let me talk about astrology with you but won’t let someone draw a few tarot cards on you?” Ray turned his attention to his phone and swiped his thumb over the screen a few times, giving a pitying sigh._ _

__“They’re all scammers, dude. Even Miss Cleo was a fucking scammer.” Frank said, laying back onto the couch and crossing his arms over his chest._ _

__“Okay, that’s a half-truth and you know it. She was used by the Psychic Friends Network. We listened to that podcast all about it together if I’m remembering correctly.” Ray said._ _

__Frank grumbled, because he really actually didn’t believe in that shit. He didn’t. It was for Jeanie Yoginis and edgy fake monotheistic satanists who didn't understand the political aspect of satanism and for people who loved cultural appropriation of actual traditional religions...Usually. That wasn’t him. Not him. Not Frank._ _

__Still, there was room for him to be wrong about it like anything else. He just didn’t have a reason to believe that someone flipping cards over the phone could see anything into what the fuck he was doing or where he was going with his stupid-boring-sad little life._ _

__It was parlor trickery that relied on the person receiving the service to be gullible. Which Frank wasn’t –Not all the time. Open-minded, yes. Gullible, No._ _

__If anything he could be too trusting, like Ray had mentioned._ _

__Ray was looking at him like he could hear his internal criticisms from where he was in his seat. A patch of blue light from the window landed over his eye as he leaned forward to put his chin into his hands, making him look like a technicolor spotted dog._ _

__“God, you are insufferable… Please try it. If you don’t like it at least you’ll be entertained. Or you can hang up…”_ _

__***_ _

__On Halloween Ray had ordered Frank Chinese before he left for the night._ _

__Ray was preening a little in the mirror on the wall in the kitchenette, wearing a purple velvet suit jacket that had stars embroidered all over it in gold thread. He had his curly hair pulled back and neatly tucked behind his ears._ _

__Frank had told him that he looked good, looked put together. Like a real professional star reader or a magician you’d hire for a kid’s birthday party who also knew how to inflate a bounce house (that earned him a shove)._ _

__The jacket was a stroke of luck find from the thrift store a few blocks down from where their apartment building was. The same place where they had been finding a strangely high volume of love-scuffed mid-century modern furniture for the apartment._ _

__Ray had tried the velvet thing on as a joke. It was terribly ugly on the hanger, but when he shouldered it on it fit him as if it were made for him. The cut was right and the details were too perfect to pass up._ _

__“It’s so ugly.. Dude, I love it.” Frank said._ _

__Ray was zipping up his laptop into his leather side bag when he turned to Frank and said “Are you sure you’ll be okay tonight?”_ _

__“I promise not to chew up the couch cushions.” Frank responded after some hesitation, because Ray’s question felt weighted. He set a dirty dish into the sink._ _

__Ray’s face pinched suspiciously, but then softened._ _

__Frank had been spending a lot of time in his room lately, a lot of time with the door shut and his phone off. Ray could only pry so much without being pushy, but he couldn’t ignore that Frank’s hair was getting longer, that he was eating less and that he was becoming more and more antisocial as time went on. He still went to work, but would come home immediately after his shift to sleep or hole up in his bedroom doing fuckall._ _

__“Want to watch a movie tomorrow?” Ray pulled the strap of his bag over his head, resting it onto his shoulder._ _

“Sure.” Frank said. He knew that was code for, _do you wanna’ talk about it?_ He didn’t, but he agreed anyway to get Ray off of his case. Ray was going to be late if he didn’t start moving and he didn’t need to worry. 

__At least for the night._ _

__“I’ll be home after midnight!” Was what Frank heard from the entryway followed by the door being shut and the deadbolt clicking into place._ _

__He was by himself then, left to pack up the little take out containers strewn across the kitchen counter. The apartment felt too quiet as he got everything neatly into the fridge._ _

__Frank was alone and at home on his birthday. Which meant that he was home and alone on Halloween. That was somehow sadder to him, not doing something on Halloween._ _

__It wasn’t that there was nothing to do. Ray had invited him to come with him, his parents had invited him out too. He could definitely have gone somewhere by himself because there was always something fun to do on his birthday considering what holiday it was on._ _

__Frank didn’t have the energy to be social though. He didn’t feel like being, you know, seen._ _

He knew that if he went out he would be thinking about going home the entire time regardless of who he was with. There wasn’t a point to it and he more than likely would have come home early, exhausted from being around people. 

What was even stupider was that he may have wanted to stew in it a little, his unrest. If he wanted to horde himself away from the world he fucking could. If he wanted to do nothing except feel sad and then go to sleep, he fucking could. If he wanted to say that he didn’t do anything for his birthday when someone asked, he could do that too. It was his goddamn day to do whatever he wanted with and he could ignore it if that’s what he _wanted._

__And the very idea of having any kind of attention on him made him feel ill. It was just another day and it was no more important to him or anyone else than any other._ _

And fuck, he knew he would snap if someone told him ‘Happy Birthday’ and he had to fake-smile and pretend it was indeed a _happy birthday_. It wasn’t, but it was his. 

__As a gift to himself he could hide. He could let calls go to voicemail. Delete all social media from his phone and cut up the cards that came in the mail after checking them for money._ _

__Frank filled a glass of water from the tap and drank it while leaning up against the counter. The kitchen was tidy, cleaner than it had been in weeks. Ray would be happy about it when he got home._ _

__If the only thing he did that night was clean the kitchen that would be enough._ _

__***_ _

__Frank’s favorite guitar looked at him from across the room. Not that guitars can actually look at you in the same way a person or a pet could...Or at all. However, when Frank gazed over at Pansy in all her alpine white Les Paul splendor she was looking back at him like he had broken up with her on prom night._ _

__Of course Frank only imagined this. He liked to think that perhaps guitars and other things around the house had little spirits or personalities. Like his favorite cooking spoon that fit comfortably in his hand and always made the best pasta sauce. Or how the thermostat sort-of had a little face hiding in the buttons on the front of it. That was something he surely had adopted in the past year or so because he was fucking lonely._ _

___Maybe I could…_ _ _

__With a huge amount of mustered will he padded to the guitar rack in the corner of the room. It had been a while since he had really played. A long while._ _

__Long enough that the strings would more than likely hurt his fingertips._ _

__Frank picked up the guitar. He tuned it, plucking at Pansy’s strings and checking against the little electronic clip on tuner he kept pinched to the head of the guitar. He strummed her once. It sounded good. Definitely needed new strings since they were looking brassy, but was ready to be loved on otherwise._ _

__He sat on his bed with the guitar resting on his thigh, cradling her. He loved this thing. Loved how it made him feel just to hold it and feel its weight._ _

__His hands ached to play but it still didn’t feel possible. –Not because he was out of practice. He had been playing long enough that he could do it with his eyes closed. Pansy’s mahogany neck felt good in his hands, but to hold her and try to make actual music happen–It just didn’t… he couldn’t..._ _

__And he was right, the strings bit into his finger tips. This punctuated the months he had been avoiding any real playing or practice besides a few minutes of strumming here and there that immediately filled him with dread for some reason._ _

__He set the guitar back into the stand against the wall with the other four he kept in his bedroom. Four other untouched guitars._ _

__God, that was embarrassing in its own right. To have spent money on so many and then not use them. To not care for them and let them turn into a very pretentious decoration in his room. Especially with living with Ray and how he played nearly every day with his job and all._ _

__Frank looked mournfully at the instruments. They seemed to be looking back, begging him to pick them up and try. He loved playing. He loved them. Frank couldn’t...He just couldn’t._ _

_Something else then, yeah. Something else. He thought. Something low stakes and fun._

__***_ _

__Fun wasn’t fun anymore. Frank wondered how he could possibly make everything he once enjoyed unbearable. Even relaxing was an impossible and overwhelming chore._ _

__He tried to read, he tried to watch a movie, he tried to do some writing, he tried to change his guitar strings –because if he couldn’t play he could do that instead– Then he attempted to clean his room after putting it into a state of disarray by dragging out every single one of his hobbies._ _

He couldn’t decide on a book and read the first chapter of several from his late night online impulse buy stack that was slowly approaching the ceiling in height. He couldn’t focus long enough on a film and turned _Alien_ off fifteen minutes in because he ended up thinking about all the more productive things he _should actually_ be doing. He was too distracted for anything to stick. 

__Writing was a bust because he knew he couldn’t decide between starting something new, lyrics or a story or a poem or to work on a draft of whatever unfinished thing he had laying around –And then what if it wasn’t any good?_ _

__When he got to the guitar strings he couldn’t find his tool kit and box of spares that he had stashed somewhere in his closet. Of course he couldn’t, he hated throwing anything away and even though everything was mostly organized things still found a way of disappearing and getting away from him. Like right then._ _

__He sprawled out on top of his bed, journals and books and dvd cases surrounding him. It was a mess. A haystack of all the shit he liked, the pleasure wrung out of them because he couldn’t quiet his head long enough to be able to enjoy anything._ _

“Fucking hell.” He said to no one, he shifted around a little on the duvet slash hobby pile he was laying atop and a few books slid off the bed and onto the floor with what he thought to be a defeated _clunk._

__It was nine-thirty and Ray had been gone for about three hours. He had wasted three hours trying to have fun on his birthday by doing the shit he apparently loved doing...And ended up frustrated and antsy and definitely not having fun._ _

_The foreign concept of fun._ He thought. This was his stupid life now. Maybe he was an actual real adult and at the stroke of midnight the night before something had changed inside of him that made all of his interests permanently, well, _uninteresting_. Except he had fallen into ruts of varying degrees of severity like this before – Only lasting days or a week or so, never longer than this. 

__Frank scrubbed his hands over his face. His thoughts were racing. Why couldn’t he just be able to do shit like a normal person._ _

__Maybe he’d get another new hobby and that could kickstart his ability to participate in his other ones._ _

__He thought of the abandoned wood burning kit and leather working tools buried deep in the horde of craft supplies and unread books that were stacked in his closet waiting to topple out like an avalanche if he were to pull something out wrong…_ _

_That never worked._

__Frank rolled onto his side and his cheek pressed against one of his many moleskine journals piled on the bed and half-full of poetry that never saw the light of day._ _

__He wished he could be like Ray, focused and organized.. Able to do many amazing creative things._ _

__They had been living together for about a year now, Ray offering his spare bedroom up after Frank was stuck between moving back in with his dad or couch surfing indefinitely. Either would have never worked, Frank had so much stuff that he couldn’t fucking get rid of._ _

__Thankfully Ray didn’t mind clutter as long as it wasn’t dusty or a fire hazard. He didn’t mind that sometimes Frank’s room absolutely exploded with his various collections of...Everything. He didn't mind that frank undulated between being exceptionally private, not speaking to him and absolutely glued to his side, needing him during the week either. Ray liked him in every and any capacity._ _

__And yeah, Frank was sentimental. He held onto things that had memories attached to them. So what if at this point his stuff owned him as much as he owned it. His room was never _dirty_...Instead disorganized in a way that seemed to reflect his emotional state._ _

_It hadn’t always been like this._

But now stuff made him feel safe. It frequently gave him something to look forward to. A package waiting when he got home from work with a new book or gadget or some band merch. So, maybe shopping was a soothe. Dopamine gained by scouring ebay for vintage _Misfits_ shirts late at night.. Or grabbing a limited edition press of a vinyl he already had several copies of. 

He wasn’t a hoarder, he was a collector. He _collected_. It wasn’t a problem. He could still move around in his room, for Christ's sake. 

__He knew that he was filling a void with stuff though. He was overspending–Not that he was in real danger with his money situation. He just wasn’t enjoying buying shit anymore._ _

__He’d open his mail, feel happy for two seconds and then the thing he bought would lose its appeal instantly. It was instant gratification, a bandaid on top of a shotgun wound that was eventually going to bleed his bank account dry when he should have been saving. Doing something with it. Investing in something, investing in himself._ _

__Frank wanted to go back to school some day. He wanted to get another degree or a credential of some kind that would make his creative writing BA worth something. He wanted to do something interesting with his life instead of rotting inside of the cocoon of junk that he was creating around him. He had to, considering how he couldn’t live with Ray or work as a temp at the office he was at forever._ _

__Maybe that’s what he could ask a fucking phone psychic about._ _

__With his face still against his notebook––Pile of notebooks––With the elastic catch on one of them making a line on his face from where it was pressing into him, he decided to call._ _

__***_ _

__Frank flipped the business card between his fingers. The printed twining snakes seemed to move as he shifted the image. It would have made a neat tattoo._ _

_If you don’t like it you can just hang up. You can hang up._

__It wasn’t like he was going to actually do anything else that night. He might as well distract himself from the fun he was supposed to be having. It might be nice too, to talk to someone who didn’t know everything about him, or could worryingly look at him over their reading glasses._ _

_And if you don’t like it, hang up._

__Frank pushed all the crap on his bed to one side and got his phone unplugged from its charger on his nightstand._ _

__He tapped the number in on the screen and the keypad blipped accordingly._ _

_1-800-KISSMET_

__He hit the call button and it began ringing. There was a click indicating that the line picked up after about four rings, a pause, and then the sound of some sparkling new age harp music._ _

_Thank you for calling Sisters of The Moon Apothecary and Psychic Boutique’s reader hotline. Please press one to access our menu of services and be connected with a reader. If this is an emergency please hang up and dial 9-1-1, if this call is in regards to sending in one’s personal concerns for spellwork please hang up and call the shop between the hours of eleven AM and seven PM. Have a blessed day and may the gods smile upon you._

__Frank let the message loop twice before pressing one on the screen of his phone. A second recording in the same soft voice began playing._ _

_Reader Menu. Press one for a fifteen minute reading. Press two for a half hour long reading. Press three for an hour long reading. Press four to redeem a gift certificate._

__Frank pressed four, naturally._ _

_Please enter or say your gift certificate number followed by the pound sign._

__With some fumbling, he read off the number on the gift receipt and hit pound. At first he thought that the system had disconnected him, met only by silence._ _

__The automated voice spoke again._ _

_You have redeemed an hour long reading. Please hold to be connected with the next available reader. Have a nice day!_

__There was another click followed by more whimsical harp music. A moment later it cut out and the line went quiet once more. Frank held his breath, listening._ _

__On the other side of the call someone breathed._ _

__“Thanks for calling Sisters of The Moon’s Psychic hotline, my name is Gee and I’ll be your reader for the next hour.” Said a chipper and nasally voice._ _

__“Uh.. Right. Hello?” Frank said._ _

__There was a slight crackling of static. Frank could hear the person on the line shifting around, maybe taking a drink then setting it down._ _

__“What’s your name, stranger? Your name and your birthday.”_ _

Frank really had no idea who he was expecting to answer the phone, maybe _Enya_ based on the hold music–but it for sure wasn’t the dude on the other side of the call or a dude in general. And it was definitely a guy, definitely from New Jersey too. It sounded like he was chewing gum. 

__“It’s–” There was hesitation in Frank’s voice. Maybe he should have used a fake name in case things got weird. This whole thing was weird though. He was speaking again before he could make something up. “I’m Frank. ”_ _

__“And your birthday, Frank?” This was followed by a snap and some smacking, this guy was for sure chewing gum._ _

__“Today.” Frank said, doing his best to not be completely put off by the mouth noises that were happening._ _

__“No shit? Wow, very auspicious.” The voice said, or Gee. Gee said._ _

__“I think it suits me.” Frank laughed and looked down at his orange and black Halloween Fiend Skull ringer shirt. It had been kind of difficult to track down and he bought it second hand._ _

A few more books slid off Frank’s bed and _thunked_ onto the floor. 

__“Cool, man.” Gee said._ _

__Frank stacked a few pillows behind himself and got comfortable. Yeah, this was very super weird. He considered reaching for one of the journals next to him to take notes._ _

__“We have an hour, Frank.” Gee started again. “And you used a gift card. I’m assuming this was for your birthday?”_ _

__It was odd to hear the stranger say his name, especially in this context. But the voice on the other end of the line was undeniably comforting to him._ _

__“It was from my roommate. He wanted me to see what was ‘in the cards’ for me, or you know, whatever that means.” Frank said. Ray was officially not allowed to give him any shit._ _

__“A skeptic, huh? You’re my favorite kind of person to read for I think...”_ _

__“Ah, you really are psychic then. ” Frank said._ _

__Gee barked a laugh._ _

__“Sometimes. And sometimes I get to change someone’s mind about all this stuff.”_ _

__“Yeah?” Frank asked. “And how do you do that?”_ _

__“I use tarot and lenormand cards. Occasionally playing cards for cartomancy. We used to have someone here who could throw the bones and that was pretty tight. But alas they have moved on– To work somewhere else, not like they died and are dead.” Gee said matter of factly._ _

__“Bones?” Frank said._ _

__“You heard that right. Don’t make it weird.” Gee added._ _

__Frank resisted laughing, more from nervousness. He would search up the bone thing later._ _

__“Let’s talk about you though.” Gee said and snapped his gum, this made Frank’s hair stand up._ _

_Ugh, the mouth noises._

__Also he didn’t fucking want to talk about himself now that he was on the phone, even though at its core that’s what a psychic reading was about: The client and their problems. There was nothing to say - He was burnt out. He was bored..If someone were to ask him how he was he wouldn’t be able to supply an answer because he really didn’t know how he was aside from irritated._ _

__“I’d rather not and see what comes up.” Frank said and it came out a little flatter than he intended it to._ _

__Gee chuckled then cleared his throat. “You really are my favorite type of client.”_ _

__There was a rustling, some tapping. Frank recognized more noise that could have only been Gee shuffling cards on a table top. Maybe on glass. Frank imagined that the room Gee was in was smoke-filled, incense burning in a brass dish and with funny mandala tapestries draped all over the ceiling and walls like a head shop. That there was a crystal ball in front of him lit up and glowing within by means of some unknown source of spiritual energy. That the room was lined with candles, wax melting and dripping down the sides of them._ _

__“Where are you?” Frank asked._ _

__“Room in the back. Or did you mean where are we located?” Gee said. He was still shuffling. “Tell me when to stop.”_ _

__“What’s the room look like?” Frank said, he was really genuinely curious – imagining a rip off of Miss Cleo’s infomercial set, but darker and more cramped– Probably with some cursed antiques or jars of pickled chicken feet. For a second he wondered how many people have asked this, or if they do in person appointments wherever Gee was right then. Inside of the dark room he was imagining._ _

__“It’s small. Used to be a bathroom at one point. There’s still a medicine cabinet on the wall behind a curtain. Uh… Lots of...Lamps and mood lighting. And wind chimes– Which really are pointless since there aren’t any windows. The walls are painted concrete– Let’s see.. There’s a rug that we got at the flea market and a very cool ashtray that my friend made for me. Uh, Hmm.. –Can I stop shuffling?”_ _

__“You can stop.” Frank said. He wouldn’t have minded if he had gone on though, describing the reader space or whatever. Ordinarily Frank wouldn’t consider the kind of honking Jersey accent coming through on the earpiece of his cellphone pleasant, but Gee’s voice was that: pleasant._ _

__The shuffling stopped, next came what had to be Gee flipping cards face up onto the mystery surface in front of him. He gave several noncommittal ‘hmms’, clearly thinking. More cards were flipped, the gentle snap of cardstock on cardstock being put into place._ _

__Gee gave a low whistle._ _

__“I see that you’ve endured a lot of pain, Frank.”_ _

__Frank made a noise in agreement, because maybe it was true. Or Gee is just saying that, so he would stay on the line and pay six hundred and sixty-six dollars to remove a generational curse that was forcing him to live a life steeped in misfortune and aforementioned pain._ _

__“Your life isn’t just about suffering though, it’s about transforming that pain into joy. “ Gee continued._ _

__“No shit.” Frank supplied._ _

__“And it looks like you’re recovering from like, a bad relationship, it ended badly. Time has passed, you’ve been here for a couple years now. There’s trauma I’d speculate and it ended badly. You really got the worst of it I think. Your health has suffered, or you feel like you’ve been spinning your wheels for...Years. There’s a lot of swords in the spread. The devil, death, the star, the hermit.” Gee said, followed by an inhale._ _

__Frank swallowed audibly._ _

__Okay, that was true. That’s why he had moved in with Ray. He had broken up with his girlfriend of three years and they had been living together. There was cheating on both sides, physical on her part and emotional on his. It was terrible. Painful. He had never been so lonely sleeping next to someone– And now.. Fuck, and now she was now dating an ex-best friend._ _

__Her and him had adopted a dog and were posting it all over instagram.They had moved in together and got engaged a month later. All the stuff her and Frank had talked about doing when they were together. Not the fucking instagram part but the having a life together bit._ _

_Fuck._

__Gee took his silence as an invitation to continue. “Uh, alright and –Money doesn’t look great, you want to pursue your passions but feel burnt out or stuck. You could be doing a lot better there if you really applied yourself when it comes to doing things that you actually like.”_ _

__“Right,” Frank said, sinking into the mattress._ _

_Too right._

__Gee started to sound further and further away as Frank stared up at his ceiling._ _

__“You’re probably scared of being judged for who you are. You’re scared of your own success and what that might mean for you. You might feel undeserving of happiness, or broken in some way.” Gee said._ _

“–I’m _scared_ of success?” Frank interjected. 

__“You’re scared of a lot of things. Moving forward, being burned again, or being vulnerable. Aren’t we all? But you, there’s a lot of intense cards here, Frank. Three of swords, nine of swords, ten of swords. Several swords cards– which represent our thoughts. The five of cups is here too. God, I’m sorry everything is so much.”_ _

__“I...Yeah.” Frank said intelligently. Honestly how the fuck could he know all that just from some little card game? Who didn’t have those fears - Like dude, who on earth wasn’t at least a little scared of the future and or depressed?_ _

__“What do you think?” Gee asked._ _

_You’re right._ Is what Frank thought. It didn’t make him special. 

__“Seems kind of general, I don’t know.” Frank said._ _

__“Does it? I’m always worried about exactly that with these phone readings.” Gee said agreeably. It sounded like he was shuffling cards again._ _

__“Ask for a general reading, get a more general outcome. We should explore what you should be doing to improve things. You’re welcome to ask about something more specific. Everything we talk about is completely confidential unless you are in danger or doing something illegal, of course.”_ _

__“Okay.” Frank said._ _

__“On a more positive note, ‘looks like you’re going to meet someone. Maybe in the next few weeks.” Gee’s voice lifted hopefully._ _

__“What do you mean?” Frank asked._ _

__There was a flicking noise, followed by quiet. Then a long exhale. Frank imagined a thin stream of pale smoke curling out of Gee’s indistinct mouth and instantly was hit with a craving for a cigarette of his own. He’d have to go out on the balcony after this._ _

__“Here in the future... You’re scared to let someone in who can help you. Maybe a friend or mentor. But someone you haven’t met yet. It’s not clear what you need from them, but you should keep your eyes peeled. ”_ _

__Frank thought about Ray making one of his many concerned faces, and the barriers Frank had put between them that were for no one’s benefit. Except the person being described that was trying to help him was someone he didn’t know yet._ _

__“We can talk about whatever you want here. You have lots of time still.” Gee said._ _

__He thought about hanging up right then, he had just been read to hell and needed to think about it all. He had nothing to ask about, nothing was happening in his life and that was the problem._ _

__He could hear the rustling and drawing of cards again._ _

__“Maybe.. You wanna’ talk about that creative block you’re having? What was it that you stopped doing that used to make you so happy? Or how you’re prone to self-flagellation... You Scorpios really are all the same.” Gee said._ _

__Frank heard some shifting and he imagined Gee crossing and uncrossing his legs while sitting in his weird little room._ _

__“There are a few cards here that would indicate that you or someone around you is hoarding resources inappropriately too. What’s that about?” Gee asked softly._ _

“ _That.._ ” Frank said, a little defensively. If Ray was there to hear all of this Frank knew he would have been smiling smugly at him. 

__“Feels like it’s so much larger than you and impossible to deal with and like it might not even belong to you? The creative block, I mean. Do you play violin, ukulele or guitar?” Gee asked._ _

"Sorry but, _how_ –?” Frank said, leaning against the receiver. Christ, no one would go as far as to quickly look up his name and number to get info on him, right? How? 

__“It’s all in the cards” Gee laughed, breathy and charming and like he was a little sorry. “I know. That’s so corny, I couldn’t resist– But seriously it’s all here.”_ _

__“Can we talk about it then?” Frank said._ _

__“I thought you’d never ask.” There was a sharp snap of gum being popped from the other side of the line._ _


End file.
